


Trust Fall

by HapaxLegomenon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, Light Angst, No Spoilers, Serious Injuries, Team as Family, Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapaxLegomenon/pseuds/HapaxLegomenon
Summary: A stealth hacking mission gone wrong leaves Lance and Pidge stranded on a Galra-infested moon, waiting for a rescue that might come too late.





	Trust Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this story depicts a character sustaining serious injury, and that I am not a medical professional. If you are bothered by characters in peril or potentially inaccurate medical understanding, proceed with caution.

Being a paladin of Voltron is a lot like living in an action movie. Hovering two storeys above the ground with his rifle active and feet braced against the data spire, Lance has never felt like more of a badass.

“It’s like we’re Spider-Man and the Mission Impossible guy all at the same time,” he says. Lance glances sideways to where Pidge is perched, typing furiously at a holoscreen. She doesn’t say anything, but her lips tighten. Lance grins at the small victory.

“ _Pay attention, Lance,_ ” Shiro drones over the comms, dry and long-suffering.

“Hey, I’m doing my job just fine! Genius over here is the one taking her sweet time.”

A week ago, one of Pidge’s Galra trackers pinged on a high-volume data dump being beamed to what was, as far as they could tell, an uninhabited moon orbiting a dead Balmera. Closer inspection revealed that the moon wasn’t technically inhabited -- just crawling with Galra sentry bots, guarding what appeared to be a sort of library that stored discrete packets of information Pidge couldn’t hack into remotely.

And of course, for the restless, reckless heroes of Team Voltron, such a low-hanging fruit was too tempting to pass up, particularly when all they had to do was reach.

“It’s harder to get into than I expected,” Pidge says, defensive.

“Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Lance snarks back, just to provoke her. He tracks a sentry through the scope of his rifle. It turns a corner without noticing them and he goes back to scanning.

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate,” Pidge snaps.

“Make me.”

“Shiro, make him shut up.”

“ _Do you seriously have to be so obnoxious all the time?”_

“ _Keith, not helping. Lance, be quiet._ ”

Lance blows a raspberry into his comm and grins at the echoing chorus of disapproval.

“ _Anything I can do to help, Pidge?_ ” Hunk says, playing peacekeeper.

“Nah,” she says, and Lance feels her shift beside him. “Almost got it, I just gotta -- Whoa!”

Lance’s heart stops as he sees Pidge’s foot slip, and she skids sideways on the face of the spire. Acting on pure instinct, he grabs for her arm. Even in her armour, she’s tiny, and he can fit his hand easily around her bicep. He squeezes so hard that his knuckles creak.

“ _Pidge? Everything alright?_ ”

“Yeah,” she answers shakily, meeting Lance’s startled look with a wide-eyed look of her own. “Just slipped. Sorry.”

Lance exhales and releases her. “Careful, Pidge, geeze.” She huffs at him, and he starts to raise his rifle again.

He realizes, too late, that their commotion has attracted the attention of a pair of sentries. With no time to do anything but react, he fires twice.

He hears four shots. Three impacts. And a surprised yell of pain.

Pidge is falling.

“ _Pidge! Lance! What’s happening?”_

Shiro’s voice is loud in his ear, but Lance doesn’t have the concentration to spare for a response. His bayard vanishes back into his suit as he twists away from the spire, and he grits his teeth as he shoots headfirst towards the ground.

The sparking mess of her jetpack leaves a trail of smoke as she falls, and when Pidge tries to compensate, the guttering sends her spinning out of control. She collides with a nearby spire with a crunch that freezes Lance’s blood.

“Pidge!” he yells, and pushes his jetpack harder, tucks his arms in. He needs to be faster. Pidge is terrifyingly limp and silent, and Lance prays that he’ll reach her in time. The ground is rising up underneath them and he needs to be _faster_.

“ _Pidge? Lance!”_

“ _What’s going on?”_

_“Somebody answer me_ now.”

“She’s hit,” Lance says through gritted teeth. He reaches out, stretching to the tips of his fingers. He’s so close now, just a bit more...

There’s a beat of silence. Then Shiro says, quiet and serious, “ _Can you get to her?_ ”

Lance forces a breathless laugh. “Please, Shiro, who do you think you’re talking to?”

Three things happen almost at once.

Lance’s fingers brush Pidge’s palm. He grabs her hand and brakes as hard as he can. And they hit the ground.

The impact sends them flying apart again, and Lance’s head spins as he gasps for air. There’s a chorus of voices yelling in his ear, but he can’t quite make them out over the ringing. One sound does make it through, though -- a quiet, pained wheeze.

“M’okay,” he mutters, pushing himself up on his knees and shaking his head. Something green nearby catches his eye, and he scrambles towards it on hands and knees. Pidge is sprawled on her side, and when he gets close he can see her chest rising and falling, but she doesn’t move.

“ _Lance?”_ Hunk’s teary voice breaks through the haze of panic. “ _Can you hear me, man?”_

“Hey Hunk?”

“ _Yeah! Yeah, I’m here, what do you need?”_

“Extraction. And get a pod ready.”

Shiro’s the one who answers. “ _We’re on our way. Hold tight, you two._ ”

Lance mutes his mic and deactivates the visor on his helmet, then does the same for Pidge. She blinks at him, but her eyes are unfocused and her gaze drifts away. Lance hovers, unsure whether it’s safe to touch her or not. He can’t see any obvious injuries, but he can’t get the terrible, crunching sound of her impact with the spire out of his head. The suit makes for a good body splint, which he knows from painful personal experience, but he doesn’t want to risk moving her if he doesn’t have to. Then again, they’re alone on a Galra-infested moon. He probably won’t have a choice.

“Pidge. Hey. You with me? Pidge?”

She blinks again, focusing in on him this time.

“Lance?” Her voice is high and uncertain and Lance has to swallow a knot in his throat before he can respond.

“Yeah, it’s me. How ya doing?” She frowns, and Lance winces. “Yeah, sorry, dumb question. Where are you hurt? How bad?” The ground shakes under them with the approach of dozens of metallic footsteps, and Lance twitches. “We gotta move, Pidge,” he urges. “I need you to tell me where you’re at.”

She stares up at him, wide-eyed and uncomprehending. It’s the worst expression to see on the face of their resident genius. Lance bites back a scared sob. He needs to be the one in control right now. He sucks in a breath and tries as hard as he can to channel his inner Shiro. Calm. Focus. They’ll be okay. He can figure this out.

Then there’s the telltale whine of a Galra blaster powering up, and that’s that. Time up. Between potentially worsening any injuries and definitely getting shot again, he’ll take his chances with moving her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Pidge whimpers and Lance grits his teeth as he scoops her up into his arms. There’s no way he can take down an entire squad of Galra sentry drones on his own, and there’s nothing around the base of the data spires that could serve as defensible cover. The safest thing to do is get back to the Green Lion and wait for the rest of their team. It’s not too far. Pidge is heavy in her armour, but Lance is buoyed on a cocktail of terror and adrenaline as he runs.

“Put me down,” Pidge mumbles, catching Lance by surprise. He almost stumbles, but catches himself with his jetpack and they shoot forward. She twists feebly in his arms.

“Don’t _move_ , you idiot,” he snaps, vicious enough to make her pause. Then she gets that familiar stubborn set to her jaw, and shoves harder at Lance’s chest with her elbow. Her face is pallid and there’s no strength behind the gesture, but at least she seems to be alert. That’s an improvement.

Pidge’s face scrunches up. “Ow,” she mutters, sounding surprised. Lance lets out a brief, hysterical giggle.

“You got shot out of the sky and ‘ow’ is all you have to say? Really?”

“Hurts,” she emphasizes, pushing against him again. “Put me down.”

Lance snorts. “What, ‘cause you can run?” The jolting must be uncomfortable; Lance has been in that position and he knows how much it can hurt, but it’s definitely preferable to being shot with laser guns. He can see Green up ahead, and pushes himself to go faster.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be stupid. I got this. Almost there.” Pidge closes her eyes, and as the Galra sentries start firing, the Green Lion lowers her head, jaws snapping shut around them. The gunshots ping off of her muzzle and Lance almost collapses in dizzy relief. But he’s not done yet.

“Ow,” Pidge repeats when Lance deposits her as gently as he can into her pilot’s chair. Her head lolls to the side and despite her earlier bravado, she starts to slump out of the seat.

Lance catches her, holding her up as her face twists in a pained expression that pierces right through his heart. He steadies her, then reaches to cup her cheek in his hand. Her skin is cold, and Lance’s chest seizes as she leans into his palm.

“Sit tight,” Lance murmurs. “The others are coming. You’re gonna be fine.”

Pidge gulps, her jaw clenching under Lance’s hand. “You’re acting weird,” she complains. Her fingers twitch in her lap as she glares up at Lance like this is all his fault. Maybe it is. Before he can formulate a response, Shiro’s voice crackles in his ear.

“ _Lance, are you there?_ ”

Lance hurries to tap his microphone back on. “Right here, you guys almost here or what? Pidge is pretty out of it and I can’t fly Green.”

“M’not,” Pidge mumbles, stubborn.

Shiro’s voice is grim when he responds, “ _Some kind of force field has gone up around the library. Hunk’s working on it, but it might take a while._ ”

Lance’s stomach drops. Green’s shields are strong, but even a Voltron lion can’t hold up under constant assault forever, and in the meantime, he has no way of telling how badly hurt Pidge is. If she has internal bleeding from the fall… No. He wills himself to think about something else. “How long?”

“ _Ten dobashes, maybe? I dunno man, this is more Pidge’s area of expertise than mine,_ ” Hunk answers. Lance can hear the panic in his friend’s voice. It’s not fast enough.

Lance turns to look at the Green Lion’s visual displays, searching for anything that might help them. In his experience, particle barriers keep everything out… but they don’t do anything to keep ships in.

The screens show various scans and data outputs, and it’s easy enough for Lance to pull up a reading on the barrier. He may not be a tech genius, but he’s still pretty smart, thank you very much. Everything indicates that there would be nothing keeping Green trapped on the moon, if only they could get in the air.

Lance spins, excited to share the information, but finds Pidge slumped in her seat with her eyes closed and her face slack. The brief moment of confidence snaps away, and he hurries back to her side. “Pidge? Hey, Pidge, wake up. Pidge?”

She stirs and mumbles something incoherent. She’s clearly not doing well. Nothing’s changed as far as Lance can see, but she’s curled around one side and her face is so bloodless that her skin looks translucent.

Yeah, they definitely can’t wait ten dobashes.

“Gotta hurry it up, Hunk,” he warns into the comm, knowing even as he says it that the rest of their team isn’t going to make it in time. He has to do this himself. God, he doesn’t know if he can do this himself.

He crouches in front of Pidge and shakes her knee as gently as he can manage. Pidge’s reaction is weak, just shifting and a slight frown. Even if she might’ve been able to fly before, it’s certainly out of the question now.

“Think, Lance,” he mutters to himself. He slaps his thighs as he glances anxiously around the cockpit, trying to solve the problem. Okay, break it down. Identify the problem. They need to get off of this moon, and Pidge can’t fly the Green Lion. There are two possible solutions. Either Lance finds something else to fly...

Or someone else pilots the Green Lion.

He exhales a long, deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first time a lion accepted a new pilot. Heck, it wouldn’t even be the first time that a different lion accepted Lance. It’s possible. _It’s possible._

“What did Allura say the Green Lion wanted?” He tries to remember, but it’s hard to focus. All he wants to do is to scoop Pidge into his arms and hold her, or talk to her, or do anything at all to try to comfort her… but that’s not what he needs to do.

He pushes outward with his mind, feeling for the Green Lion. Red is there, pacing in the back of his head in an echo of his own distress. He even feels Blue, rumbling her own worry. There’s an image of the two of them standing, resolute, and then they wrap around him, pressing against his sides, and they _roar_.

The Green Lion’s cockpit explodes in a swirl of bright green lights, and Lance feels an urgent tug in his soul that pulls him towards the controls. The sensation is overwhelming in a way that bonding with Red or Blue never was, flooding his senses with memories and thoughts and data and Lance’s knees buckle under the weight of it all.

It’s not just the lion, he realizes. Pidge is there, too, hazy but present. He reaches out, not entirely sure of what he’s going to do. He feels her realize that he’s there, and then they touch minds and Lance _feels her --_

_\-- pain, stabbing, burning, it hurts and it hurts and it_ hurts _and --_

_\-- fear, uncertainty, wanting their dad, wanting their brother and --_

_\-- curiosity, wondering, why are they here, why are they together, why is this happening it’s never happened like this before not even in Voltron and --_

_\-- determination, affection, wanting to protect, wanting to fight, family and love and --_

_\--_ it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’ll take care of you, I’ll keep you safe, we’re going to be okay and _\--_

_\-- trust._

Lance slingshots back into himself, chest heaving. Pidge is limp in the pilot’s chair. And Green is waiting. He can feel them both now, and he carefully, gently lifts Pidge. He tries his best to avoid where he feels her pain as he maneuvers Pidge into his lap, tucks her head under his chin and whispers, “I’ve got you.” Pidge’s awareness flutters in the Voltron bond, tired but wholly trusting.

“Hey, guys?” Lance calls into the comms, voice cracked and raw. Five voices clamour in his ear, and he ignores the layered questions to say, “We’re coming.”

Lance puts his hands on the controls, and the Green Lion roars.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the digital charity zine [Rainforest: A Pidge x Lance Zine](http://plance-zine.tumblr.com/). We had an incredible team of creators and amazing mods, and we were able to raise $450(USD) for our chosen charity, [Rainforest Foundation US](http://www.rainforestfoundation.org/). I'm honoured to have been a part of this project, and I hope you enjoyed the piece I created.
> 
> Check me out on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/paxlegomenon).


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